Ownership
by LadyNightRunner
Summary: It is morning, and these things belong to Genesis: The god of fine porcelain and death sucking his fingers on the right; the enormous bear of a man snoring against his hip; the lithe young soldier curled between his legs like a puppy.


Some time ago, I had someone ask me to write with Genesis. As I hardly ever use him at all and when he does pop up, he's either being mentioned or is at best a side character, I thought it was about time I played with him as a character in his own right.

The spoiled little princess promptly grabbed my ideas, chucked them out the window, and had a happy little orgy with his harem of manly men in the middle of my keyboard. This is the result. Oddly enough, it captures a lot of what I think of Genesis. He is small, pretty, and of a different kind of mindset than his peers. I imagine he at least thinks he's more cultured than they are, though in reality, the only one lacking culture is Zack. He seems to be arrogant and possessive, but I believe that he would take very good care of his lovers, since he wouldn't dare be seen with shoddy playthings. And he does love them.

Perhaps you'll like this view of the other redhead.

* * *

><p>It is morning. In fact, it is after nine, which would usually mean that no one should be in bed without a medical excuse, but today, they are vacationing at Icicle Inn and no one cares what time they get out of bed. After the exertion and play of the day before, they deserve a little rest anyway.<p>

Genesis is awake. He sits propped up by a heap of pillows that his companions have discarded in favor of using each other and surveys all that is his.

Sephiroth lies along one side of the bed, a great curve of muscle and bone and fine white skin, his hair a swath of mercury spread towards the bottom corner of the bed. Sunlight coming in through the curtains makes his skin glow and his hair shine like burnished metal. He has one hand extended, resting on Genesis' ankle, and his head resting on the bed itself, two fingers of his other hand in his mouth.

On the other side of the bed, Angeal lies spread-eagle as though his unconscious body was dumped there, though Genesis knows he put it there himself. The man is simply a messy sleeper, legs over here and arms over there, mouth open, snoring softly. He turns slightly in his sleep, trying to escape a sunbeam, and presses his face against Genesis' hip. Mumbling briefly, he mouths at the skin, then sinks back into sleep.

Zack lies in the middle, loosely curled on his side with his head between Genesis' legs. He had been using the red General's stomach as a pillow, but Genesis moved and Zack hadn't seemed to care. One of Angeal's hands lies across Genesis' leg to touch Zack's shoulder, and one of the young man's feet is tucked against Sephiroth's chest. Zack himself is too neatly tucked into his space to be reacting for anyone.

These things belong to Genesis: The god of fine porcelain and death sucking his fingers on the right; the enormous bear of a man snoring against his hip; the lithe young soldier curled between his legs like a puppy.

Genesis loves them. He doesn't tell them often. He isn't that kind of man. The others are. Angeal whispers love, love, love, _love_ when they move together in the dark, and writes it in kanji with his fingertip in the palm of Genesis' hand under the table at lunch. Zack throws the word like a toy, but he only ever says it to these three men, and he writes it in chocolate and body paint on Genesis' belly when they lie in bed together. Sephiroth says it too, in Wutain and Solian and the sharp language of Junon and the melodic words of the Gongagan jungles and the guttural tones of Nibelheim and Corel's primal dialects, and sometimes he even says it in the common tongue, but no matter what language he uses, Genesis knows that it is he says. Genesis doesn't say it. He shows it, in the way he touches his men, the way his long hands caress them without asking for sex, the way he tends wounds and soothes aches. He shows it when he stands over all three of them with his crop and demands they get on their knees and they do, and he strikes only here and there, only enough to warm them up before he plays with them in earnest. He tells them when they bend him double and drive him into the wall or the mattress or the floor, cursing the swearing and crying out to the Goddess for the sheer burning pleasure of it all.

And he knows they know he loves them. But sometimes, in the dark after the others have all drifted off and he lies awake, watching over them like a small, feisty angel, he whispers it to their deaf ears and feels better for it.

"Mmm…you're up early." Angeal's voice is thick and heavy with sleep, almost a growl. He blinks up at Genesis over the curve of the man's hip, blue eyes only half open.

"Not really, no."

"What time is it?"

"After nine."

Angeal groans and pushes his face against Genesis' thigh, groping around for a blanket or a pillow or something to pull over his head. "Too _early_."

"Early? Angeal, it's nine in the morning."

"We didn't even get into the room until after midnight," Angeal groans. "We were still awake at _three_. Why are you so _awake_?"

"I don't know. Why are you so tired?"

"I was playing willing pile driver to three horny SOLDIERs, that's why."

"Then you need to learn to be a little less eager to please, dear," Genesis purrs, stroking Angeal's thick hair. It is remarkably smooth considering what he did the night before and how much moving he does in his sleep. Genesis' hair would be a rat's nest if he moved half as much. "Go back to sleep if you're tired."

"Mmph." Angeal lays his head in Genesis' lap and closes his eyes, breath leaving him in a heavy, thoroughly exhausted sigh. His breathing evens out and quiets in a matter of minutes.

"Silly bear," Genesis says affectionately. Moments later, his attention is drawn to a sudden smooth movement, the sinuous stretch of Sephiroth's long body as he gets up on his knees, shoulders lowering nearly to the bed and hips rising into the air, hands stretched out in front of him as he yawns. Genesis gets a very good look at a lot of very sharp white teeth and a pink tongue before Sephiroth's mouth closes and he lies back down, surveying Genesis over Zack's backside as though he hadn't woken up to find the young man's foot on his chest and his butt all but shoved into his face.

"You're watching us sleep again," he accuses, but there is no true annoyance in his voice, just a rich, sweet sleepiness.

"I might have been."

"Why do you do that?"

"Because you're so beautiful."

Sephiroth smiles tiredly and he turns around, crawling up the bed like some great cat, and lies down with his head resting on Genesis thigh. One long hand comes up and twists a few strands of Genesis hair around his fingers, then falls back to the bed. "Liar," he murmurs.

"I am not."

"You are."

"Why do you say that?"

"Angeal isn't beautiful. He's a hairy old grump."

"You're lucky he's asleep."

"I know." Sephiroth smiles cheekily. "But he is. Hairy, at least. And grumpy when you wake him."

"Why are you awake? It's not noon yet."

"I'm not." Sephiroth stretches again and pulls the corner of a blanket over his naked hip, rolling and squirming comfortably on the bed in a wanton display of skin and contented delight. "Just talking to you for a minute." He closes his eyes and wriggles around for a minute before Genesis sighs and takes Sephiroth's hand, lightly smacking him in the face with it.

"Just put your fingers in your mouth and stop squirming already."

"I don't suck my fingers."

"And I don't read Loveless. Just do it and go back to sleep."

Sephiroth scowls and covers his face with one hand, and Genesis smiles when he sees a thumb slide into that pretty mouth. Sephiroth can deny it all he wants, but Genesis finds the whole oral fixation thing _very_ attractive.

It is quiet for a time, as Sephiroth sinks back into a fairly deep sleep and jams two more fingers into his mouth, suckling softly and moving a little as he dreams. He teases Angeal and Zack for their canine habits, Zack in particular, but when he sleeps, he is guilty of the same, whining and all but chasing things in his sleep. Genesis has enough videos of this on his phone to blackmail the man for the rest of their lives and then some.

Zack stirs with a soft whine, turning and curling in a half-daze, searching for Angeal. He always goes for the big man first, and will often just tuck himself up under one of Angeal's arms and go back to sleep without ever truly waking, but this morning, Genesis' leg is in the way and Zack is facing away from Angeal, and so he wakes, pouting and blinking and generally looking as though another hour or ten of sleep would do him some good.

"'geal?" His voice is hoarse form their play the night before and the hours of play out in the snow before that.

"He's asleep," Genesis whispers, stroking the unruly black spikes Zack dares to call hair. "It's still early. Go back to sleep."

"Why're _you_ up?" Zack rolls over and squiggles up the bed to rest his chin on Genesis' stomach, ignoring the face Genesis makes at the pressure of such a pointy body part jammed into his belly. Angeal or Sephiroth, with their washboard abs, might not mind so much, but Genesis does not get the manly definition they have; rather, he maintains a lean, teen-idol figure, hard and flat and woefully bad at protecting him from chins and elbows in soft places.

"I am always up."

"Are not. You slept all the way up here. Missed a lot."

"Oh, yes, I wouldn't _dream_ of missing Angeal's airsickness and Sephiroth's headaches from the altitude. There is a _reason_ I sleep on flights."

"Don't be mean," Zack complains, leaning over and kissing Genesis' navel. He squirms in a rather ticklish fashion and Zack kisses him again, then stops before he can be swatted for it.

"I'm not. It's the truth, and if you were awake or at least paying attention, you'd know it's true."

"Angeal used three barf bags."

"Mmhm."

"We had to go higher to get around a storm and Seph almost cried."

"Mmhm."

"You should've been awake to help them."

"There is nothing that can be done for either of them. Angeal refuses to use a sedative to avoid being conscious while we're in the air and all the remedies for motion sickness we have tried have had no effect except to make him drowsy, which just means that he doesn't always remember where he's supposed to vomit. And sedating Sephiroth is no good, since he'll wake up with the headache anyway. We just argue when I try to help, so it's best to sleep and take care of them once we've landed, when they appreciate the attention. Which is why I threw you out of the room when we got here."

"I could've helped."

"And you would have been loud and happy and all over the place while you did it, which is not what they needed. They needed quiet and rest and peace while they recovered."

Zack grumbles but lets his head fall to the side, gazing up at Genesis through one lovely purple eye. Eventually he sighs and cuddles closer, paying no mind to the fact that they're both naked and he's almost squashing one of his favorite parts of Genesis' body.

Genesis smiles fondly and touches Zack's face, slender fingers tracing his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose, the line of his eyebrows and the plush shape of his lips. "What are you thinking about, hmm?"

"I have a headache."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh. Not really thinking about anything else."

"We didn't drink last night."

"I knoooooowwwwww," Zack whines, butting his face against Genesis' hand. "But my head hurts and I don't feel good 'cuz it hurts and it suuuuuuuucks."

"Come up here."

"Dun wanna."

"Come _here_, Zack."

Zack pushes himself up on his arms and crawls up Genesis' body, nuzzling at his face until Genesis holds his chin still and kisses his forehead.

"You're a little warm."

"I'm in the middle of all of you. 'course I'm warm."

"You're a little warmer than you should be, sleeping without a blanket and no one holding you." Genesis kisses him again, lingering with his lips against the skin for a moment. "Mmhm. You're running a fever."

"But-"

"That's what you get for playing in the snow in your jeans. Honestly, Zack, sometimes you have all the sense of a five year old."

"It was fun!"

"And now you're sick, which isn't fun."

Zack scowls and backs up, returning to his position with his chin on Genesis' stomach, pouting unhappily up at him. "I don't wanna be sick."

"I know. But if you behave yourself and rest you'll be fine in a day or two. We have plenty of time."

Zack grumbles and mutters about it all until he falls asleep again, lulled into silence by a gentle hand sifting through his hair and a lovely tenor humming a soft lullaby.

The room is warm and comfortable and full of the smells of snow and pine and wet clothes and cinnamon and a little of sweat and sex. Genesis sits in the middle of the big bed, a redheaded bisque doll in the dog pile of huge bodies, watching silently as the others slumber. In no more than an hour, his lovers will begin to rouse. Sephiroth will want to fool around and Angeal will want a shower and Zack will want to go out and play. Genesis will put Zack back to bed with kisses and promises for later, tease Sephiroth into a frenzy before moving him to the couch and bringing him to a quick, quiet orgasm, and climb into the shower with Angeal and claims that the man needs help washing his back.

He will always rule this strange little household they have. When Zack's fever spikes high and he begins to cough, Genesis will bundle him up in blankets and take him to the resort's clinic for medicine. When Sephiroth, completely lacking in grace for once in his life, performs a fantastic yard sale beneath the ski lift and nearly dies of embarrassment, Genesis will dig the snow out of his ears and jacket while Angeal chases his runaway skis, and he will whisper how beautiful Sephiroth looks covered in snow like this, and what he would like to do if only there weren't so many people watching. When Angeal finally gives up and announces that the next person who wants him can do all the work themselves, he will roll the man over and remind him that he is more than a fantastic cock and an animal in bed, and Angeal will be so pleased by it that he won't mind when Sephiroth joins in and demands, in the smug way that he has, that Angeal try to drill a hole through the wall with him.

They will return to find Midgar wet and slushy and grey as it was when they left, and Genesis will handle that, too, filling the apartment he and Angeal share with pine and cinnamon and holly and wintery things from the mountains, and he will smugly lounge on the day bed while Zack catches everyone, even Reeve, under the mistletoe.

But for now, it is morning. The snow casts sparkles of light through the curtains to dance on the wall. Genesis watches his lovers sleep, and he smiles, for these things are his, and he loves them.


End file.
